Time and Tide
by WookieeBeta
Summary: Yugi and Co. are catapulted through time to the early 1800s; Stephen Maturin is master and commander of the Rohir. This is their story... (PG-13 for language and violence; AU; YGOMaster and Commander crossover)
1. Default Chapter

**A/N:** Okay, this is why I'm not allowed to stay at home all day with a computer and my mom's diet chocolate shake things… ^sweatdrop^   Craziness ahead, two points off the larboard bow – you've been warned!

**Rating: **PG-13 for language and violence

**Disclaimer: **Wookieebeta does not own Yu-Gi-Oh!. She does, however, own a pound of chocolate fudge…

Time and Tide 

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_Time and tide wait for no man._

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Chapter One 

"I am so sick of this place," Joey spat.  He threw himself down on the ground and drew his knees up to his chest, shivering.  "I mean, being stuck here at all is bad enough, but for two weeks?"

"Shut your trap, mutt, before I find a muzzle."

"Oh yeah? Why don't you just bug off, Money-bags, or else I'll – " 

Yugi sighed irritably.  "Joey, Kaiba, please.  Joey's right, this place stinks, and we all hate it, but your fighting is just making things worse – so just lay off for a while, all right?"  Joey looked somewhat abashed, but Kaiba just scowled.  Yugi rolled his eyes and stood, wandering aimlessly down the rocky beach.  The puzzle around his neck glowed; Yami's transparent form appeared at his shoulder. 

"Hey, Yami," Yugi murmured.  "Why'd you come out?"

"You're worried."  The former Pharaoh didn't seem to have heard the question.  

Yugi gave another sigh as he pulled his jacket tighter around his shoulders.  "Yeah," he admitted.  "I guess I am.  We ran out of food yesterday, and there's no water here, aside from seawater, which we can't drink anyway… Not to mention it's _freezing._  And…well, I think Mai's getting sick, and Joey's not looking so hot either."  He fell silent.  

"Don't give up just yet," Yami urged him, putting his hand on the younger man's shoulder.  "Just wait.  Something will come up, I'm sure of it."

Yugi shook his head silently, and it was a moment before either he or the spirit noticed the tears trickling down his face.  They embraced for a moment, and then Yugi wiped his face and said, "We should go back to the others."  

Seto Kaiba cursed under his breath.  He was cold, colder than he'd ever really been before; he estimated the temperature to be somewhere around five degrees.  He couldn't feel his fingertips.  They'd gone numb nine days ago.  He suspected he had frostbite.  

"What I wouldn't give for a cup of hot cocoa," Joey muttered darkly.  Kaiba glanced up in time to see the blonde's eyes flash to his face for a moment, expecting a biting retort, but somehow Kaiba couldn't bring himself to say anything.  He nodded silently. 

"Oh, don't even start," Ryou moaned.  "And here I thought England was cold…at least there we had heat."  The pale-haired boy was shivering visibly, but then again Kaiba was the only person who wasn't.  

"Guys, hush!  I think Téa's coming around."  Tristan was bent over her, watching her face intently for any sign of movement.  She'd fainted a few days ago and had been in and out of consciousness since then; Mai and Marik had followed suit shortly.  The poor Egyptian had never faced such low temperatures before.  Kaiba was amazed he'd lasted as long as he had. 

Not that he said so, of course.  

"Did I…faint again?" Téa asked, sitting up.  There was a chorus of "yeahs", and Yugi came over to sit next to her.  

"Are you feeling all right?"

"Tired, and hungry, and freezing, but other than that yes," she smiled.  Kaiba bit back another scathing remark.  They were _all _tired and hungry and freezing.  They hadn't had anything but one or two raw fish for the last week, and those only because they'd drifted up on shore.  The tiny island provided no shelter whatsoever; it was little more than a pile of rocks jutting up out of the sea.  They were all pale and thin, and Kaiba had a bad feeling that none of them were going to make it out of this alive.  

"Them" constituted most everyone from the Battle City Finals, minus Isis, Rishid, Kaiba's employees, and Shizuka and Mokuba.  (Kaiba thanked his lucky stars for that – it would have been nice to have his little brother to talk to, but he couldn't bear the thought of seeing Mokuba as starved and hopeless as everyone else was.)  According to Yugi, Bakura had tried to invoke some ancient Egyptian spell to wipe out whichever of the Big Five he'd been dueling, but something had broken his concentration and the spell had gone terribly awry, transporting the Tomb Robber here.  Wherever "here" was.  He didn't know why it had brought everyone else along, though; he said he assumed it had brought along all of the nearby Item bearers and whoever they held special attachments to.  

Kaiba tuned back into his surroundings just in time to hear the mutt calling his name softly.  

"Hey, Kaiba." 

"What?"

The blonde gave him a wry smile.  "I know it's a little weird, but…you want to duel?  It's better than sitting around here doing nothing, anyway."  Kaiba was a little taken aback.  Joey – Joey Wheeler, the Chihuahua – was _asking _him to duel?  _Politely? _ He considered for a moment, then shrugged.  He drew his deck out of his pocket in answer.  

The duel was short, but furious, and Joey only lost by three hundred life points.  Kaiba had been unable to draw his Blue Eyes until almost the very end of the game.  Strangely enough, he felt a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth; he'd nearly lost, yes, and to the mutt to boot, but somehow it had felt good.  Plus it had driven away everyone's lethargy for a few minutes.  Ryou challenged Yugi; Yugi challenged Joey; Joey challenged Otogi; Yugi lent Tristan his deck and Tristan played Otogi.  Marik and Mai both woke up and joined in.  When the sun finally dipped behind the horizon that evening, everyone felt better than they had since they'd first arrived.  

It didn't last.  The following morning dawned clear and cold, and Yugi was sneezing uncontrollably.  Snow began to fall around noon; by nightfall the entire group was huddled together for warmth, and Kaiba could barely hear himself think for the noise of chattering teeth.  The weather didn't change for at least three days.  

"Well," Yugi said between sneezes, "at least we can drink the snowmelt."  Kaiba scoffed.  

Ryou shuddered.  He couldn't feel anything anymore.  The spirit of the Ring had taken over for a while, but he'd been even worse off; like Marik, he was used to the hot Egyptian weather, whereas Ryou was used to the colder atmosphere of England.  He was exhausted.  "I'm gonna take a nap," he murmured softly, curling up in the snow.  He wondered why he'd been so cold; everything seemed perfectly warm, now.  Faintly he heard someone calling his name, but the darkness was beckoning softly…

"Ryou!  Ryou, wake up!"  Yugi shook his British friend's shoulders, but Ryou just murmured something unintelligible.  Yugi pulled him into a sitting position.  

_What in the world is he doing? _Kaiba thought incredulously as Yugi shrugged out of his uniform jacket and pulled it around Ryou's shoulders.  Underneath, he was wearing only a lightweight sleeveless shirt that clung to his chest, revealing just how thin he'd really become.  _He's going to freeze to death! _

"Just hold on, Ryou," Yugi whispered tearfully.  Joey walked over to sit next to his friends, putting his back to Yugi's in an attempt to provide some warmth.  After a few moments, the rest of his friends followed, and Kaiba was left to sit on his own.  No one slept well that night.  


	2. Chapter Two

**Disclaimer: **Still don't own Yu-Gi-Oh!…or Aubrey, or Maturin.  They belong to Patrick O'Brien.  (Yes, I've been watching Master and Commander far too much O.o;;) The _Rohir_'s not mine, either; she belongs to Gawain.  I just didn't want to use _Sophie _or the _Surprise_. Chapter Two 

Kaiba climbed to unsteady feet and looked around.  Marik, Mai, and Téa were still out cold, as was Ryou.  Yami had taken over for his hikari; still jacketless and sneezing, he was shivering violently, and his face was frighteningly pale.  Otogi and Tristan weren't much better.  At the moment they were huddled back-to-back; Tristan had spread his coat the best he could over his four unconscious friends.  (Actually, he'd tried to give it to Yugi, but the young duelist had refused it.) 

"Morning, Kaiba." 

"Morning, mutt."  Neither said 'good'; it wasn't.  The rivals were the only two left who were still mostly functional.  Joey's eyes were dull and lifeless, though, and he stumbled with every step.  

Joey cast an anxious look at his friends.  "D'ya think they're gonna be all right?" he asked softly.  

"I don't know, Joey.  I really don't."  

Joey raised an eyebrow at him.  "So now I'm Joey, eh?" he said.  "Not mutt?  Or Chihuahua?"

The young CEO shrugged.  "The way I see it, we're probably all going to die here.  You might as well get a little respect this once."

"Thanks…Seto."  They fell silent, standing side-by-side and watching over their weakening friends.  The wind howled around them, blowing wisps of Joey's hair into Kaiba's mouth.  He spat them out.  Joey turned and smirked at him.  Kaiba glared back.  Then Joey's smirk began to fade, and suddenly he collapsed, landing face-first in the snow.  

"Joey!" Yami struggled to his feet, only to fall back to his knees almost immediately.  Kaiba hesitated.  Then he reached down and gently lifted the Brooklyn blonde's limp form in his arms and carried him over to where Yami lay, and stretched him out at the duelist's side.  Yami gathered him into his arms.  

"Thank you, Kaiba," he murmured.

"Here.  Take this." 

Yami glanced up and his eyes widened in surprise.  Kaiba was holding out his trenchcoat.  "No, I can't," he protested.  "You need that." 

"I'll be fine.  Take it."  Hesitantly, the former Pharaoh reached up and took hold of the long white coat; it was still warm.  He tried to wrap it around Joey, but his trembling fingers refused to respond properly.  Elegant, steady hands reached down and pulled the coat around first Joey and then himself, and he felt warmth begin to seep slowly into his frozen body.  

"Kaiba, I…I can't thank you enough," he whispered.  

"Then don't."

_Gods, it's cold.  I don't know how Yugi could stand it for so long.  _Kaiba glanced over at where all of his companions lay, unconscious or asleep, arms wrapped around each other and covered with every coat he could find.  He prayed that they were all right.  He'd become strangely attached to them over the last two weeks; he was afraid of what would happen to him if they were to die.  

Not, of course, that he dared to hope otherwise.  He knew they were all doomed.  He'd known it since they'd first arrived on the god-forsaken island.  His stomach twisted painfully, and he grimaced.  Even on the off-hand chance they didn't all freeze to death, they would undoubtedly starve.  Something cold was burning into the skin on his chest, and he pulled it out; it was his locket.  _Mokuba…gods, Mokuba, I'm so sorry…I never meant to leave you, I swear!  Gods, I'm sorry…  _Scalding tears streamed down his face.  

Then his head snapped up, and his ears strained.  He thought he'd heard something.  _My imagination,_ he finally decided, feeling his heart sinking back into his stomach.  But no – there it was again!

"Land ahoy!"  The call was distant, faint, but it was there, and that was enough.  Kaiba clambered to feet he couldn't feel and stumbled forward, waving his arms over his head and yelling.  

"Hey!  Over here!  Help!  This way – help!"  He didn't notice as his feet entered the water.  "This way!"  Pausing for a second, he shaded his eyes and scanned the horizon.  There it was, not more than a mile away - the fact that it was a sailing ship, the likes of which hadn't been seen in over a hundred years, never even registered in his mind.  All he knew was that they were saved.   

He kept waving and yelling, ecstatic, as a small boat was lowered into the water and rowed towards the island.  He yelled right up until the time blackness crowded into his vision and he fell forward into the icy waters. 

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"How are they, sir?"

Stephen Maturin, practicing physician, shook his head.  "Not so wonderfully.  They're all starved nearly to death, and not a one of them escaped frostbite.  It's a wonder they're alive."

"Can you do anything for them?"

"I can try, but…I worry.  I can't promise anything.  Raise the sails again; return to our original course."

"Yes, sir."  Trask, ranked an able seaman in the English Navy, raised a knuckle to his forehead in salute and ran forward with the orders.  Stephen watched him go with a sigh, then headed belowdecks to look after the refugees and make a new entry in his journal. 

'So many dead,' he wrote.  'I have entered in the log all of the _Rohir's _deaths, and was dismayed to find that the list includes over half of the persons on the ship.  This plus the missing prize crews that we left behind so long ago means we now sail with only a quarter of the men we started with.  I am of the strong opinion that James Dillon would be able to cope with this situation, and I know my dear friend Jack Aubrey could, but JD is long dead and JA is lying only feet away in his hammock, too weak to move.  His wound has not improved; I fear an infection has set in.  If he does not begin to recover within the week I fear he too will die.  

'I am now in one of those tight situations JA was always so fond of informing me about.  As the ship's surgeon – oh, how I hate the word – I should be spending all my time with my patients; as the captain I should be on deck as often as possible, bolstering the crew and all that nonsense.  I will not even bring into consideration the fact that had I never signed on with JA in the first place I should even now be comfortably ashore in a warm house and all the potatoes I could eat, not trapped in this wooden prison on low rations and lower hope.  I count it a blessing that our navigator Mr Marshall is still alive.  If it were not for him, we would have no chance whatsoever; as it is there is still a minute possibility that we may be able to limp into a port in the south of Africa.'

Stephen looked up as Jack Aubrey, rightful master and commander of the _Rohir_, gave a quiet cough.  

"Ah, Jack, you're awake," he said with forced cheerfulness.  

"At the moment," the wide-shouldered blonde agreed.  "How do we fare?"

"We're still on the same course, running under every canvas that hasn't been reduced to shreds," Maturin said.  "Your man Trask has been exceedingly helpful, now that I've lost Dillon.  He is acting as both the master and my – what do you say – cotswain."

"Coxswain, my dear doctor, cox'n; with an 'X.'"  The captain smiled at his friend's severe lack of nautical understanding.  "Tell me, how does the crew stand sailing under a commander so inexperienced as yourself?"

The physician returned the smile.  "I just tell them where we need to go.  They work out the rest."  His mask slipped into a frown for an instant when Aubrey's laughing turned into a wracking cough, but he covered it by turning to reach for a glass of water.  He produced a small jar of powder from his pocket and sprinkled it into the cup, swilling it around.  "Here, drink this.  It's cold, I'm afraid – everything is these days, it seems – but it'll help that cough."

Aubrey swallowed it gratefully.  "I don't know what I should have done without you," he said after a moment.  

Halfway through the door, the physician turned to look back at his friend.  "You'd have found a way, I'm sure of it."


End file.
